


Win Me Prizes, Call Me Cute

by thelittlestlou



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Shameless Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-28
Updated: 2015-02-28
Packaged: 2018-03-15 09:55:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3442844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thelittlestlou/pseuds/thelittlestlou
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jean just wants to play some skee-ball, but a ticket malfunction leads to him meeting perfect arcade worker, Marco Bodt. Sexy time ensues.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Win Me Prizes, Call Me Cute

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to write some cute jeanmarco fluff, but ended up writing porn instead. Oops.  
> Also, please check out [this](http://neuroticsoulgobbler.tumblr.com/post/113413656153/fanart-for-thelittlestlou-go) wonderful fanart made by the lovely NeuroticSoulGobbler!

Jean feels like he is on the brink of breaking down. Work was shit today, his boss was a dick and the customers were ruder than usual. He works at a bookstore, why is everybody so angry? This is one of the reasons that Jean has come to hate the month he has off of school for winter. At least he enjoys being at school, and he actually values the company of some of his fellow students that attend Trost University with him. He can stand to be around few of his peers for an extended period of time; he finds people tiring and annoying, he’d rather be by himself than surrounded by strangers. He never really clicked with anybody in high school, and since he’s been home for the holidays he has pretty much just been at his house or at work. 

The one redeeming point of being home is being able to go to the boardwalk. He lives in a dinky, little seaside town, and in the winter nobody goes there; Jean can walk up and down the boardwalk’s length and just be alone with himself and his thoughts. No rude boss, no annoying customers, no disappointed parents. Just himself and the frigid beach. There are also some arcades that stay open year round on the boardwalk. And Jean is a sucker for skee-ball.

On days that he feels particularly stressed, he likes to grab some quarters and go to the arcade on his own. Yeah, it sounds lame, but he never said he had a cool way for dealing with stress. 

Today is one of those days, so he climbs into his car after work and drives to the beach. It’s just past five on a crappy day. The sky looks like it will open up any second, and its cold enough to be snow. He drives hoping for a blizzard so he’ll have an excuse not to go to work. 

When he gets to the parking lot he digs through his change and pulls out like six quarters. He doesn’t plan on staying long. He climbs out of the car and pulls his hood up. It’s fucking freezing. He takes the steps two at a time climbing up to the boardwalk, and slips into the arcade. The guy at the counter has his head down, it looks like he’s reading a book. Probably doesn’t see much business this time of year. 

The arcade is empty save for a family that’s huddled around a crane machine. There’s pop music playing over the radio and the games are all emitting different little tunes to try and entice people to come over to them. But Jean already knows what he wants to do, the skee-ball machines line the back wall, calling to him, and he hustles over to them.  


He grins like an idiot as he reaches into to his pocket to pull out 50 cents and rolls the quarters into the coin slot. Once the game is paid for it starts to play some little 8-bit song and nine balls roll into position. He bends over and picks up one of the smooth, tan balls, rolling it in his hand and breathing in before bending forward and pitching it forward. It rolls up the little skee-ball alley and he laughs when it flops weakly into the ten point hole. The machine starts to roll out his ten points.

The ten tickets slide out, and ten more, and ten more. The tickets keep coming even though Jean knows for a fact he only got ten points. He’s horrified. He hates drawing attention to himself, anyone else would probably be ecstatic by this ticket malfunction, but Jean only feels dread. He considers just running out of there, letting the entire place fill with tickets, maybe moving to another town, and forgetting all about the arcade. But before he can bolt he hears someone shuffle by him and say, “Wow! You must be really good at skee-ball!”

Jean spins around, it’s the guy who was reading at the counter. He’s a little taller than Jean, has a mop of dark hair, chocolate eyes, a face smattered with freckles, and, oh no, he’s hot. Jean opens his mouth and a weird choking sound escapes his throat, but he plays it off as a cough and says, “Actually, I think I broke it. I was only supposed to get ten tickets,” he attempts a laugh and tries to look attractive but probably just looks nervous and gross.  


“Really?” asks the beautiful stranger before smiling and giggling. Yes, it was a giggle, not a laugh but a cute little titter. And, did he just check Jean out? His eyes swept up and down Jean’s body before settling on his face, “I guess I should technically shut it off then. But I kind of want to see how many tickets it will give you,” he sits down in the skee-ball lane next to Jean’s.

“I mean, I don’t want to get you in trouble,” Jean rubs the back of his neck and shifts on his feet. Why does he feel so inadequate around this cute arcade boy.

“Nah, you won’t. We barely get any customers this time of year anyway, so its not like I have anything to do,” he grins up at Jean and Jean is pretty sure he is beet red and probably sweaty and gross and nervous looking. But if arcade guy notices that Jean looks like he is having a stroke, he doesn’t comment on it and just says, “Come on, sit.”

So Jean obeys and plops down in his own skee-ball lane, the tickets are quickly accumulating next to him. He sneaks a glance over to arcade dude, who is staring eagerly at the tickets, and asks, “You work here all year?”

Arcade guy looks up from the tickets, “Only when I’m not in school. I started working here when I was like twelve. I needed a summer job, you know? And I probably should have left a while ago, but here we are. Now I’m in college and I should probably find a job that pays more than seven dollars an hour.” 

Jean nods, “I used to work at the boardwalk when I was a kid too. But I graduated from boardwalk jobs and moved onto bookstore,” he looks over at boardwalk guy and notices him staring, so he jerks his eyes forward again and blushes. He takes a breath and mumbles, “Sucks just as much, people were dicks at the boardwalk and they’re dicks in a bookstore.” The stranger has been nodding along eagerly as Jean speaks, like he’s fully immersed in the conversation and everything Jean says is valuable and important. Jean leans back in his skee-ball lane and runs a hand through his ash-blond undercut, trying to look relaxed and as if he’s used to having conversations with beautiful strangers while sitting on top of arcade games. 

“How can people be angry around books?” The stranger asks with a laugh, “I wish I was around books all day! I’d be so happy.”

“Right?” Jean has found his soul mate. The ticket pile reaches Jean’s knees and the machine doesn’t show any signs of stopping. 

“People get upset over the most trivial things. Like, one time this lady came up to me, she was furious and was trying to watch like six children, and she starts yelling at me that a game was too hard for her kids. And I try to tell her that I can’t really help her with that, but if the machine ate her quarters or wouldn’t give her tickets I would be happy to help. But she insists that its rigged or something so I go over to it, it was a racing game, and her kids are like climbing all over the thing to try and get it to work and crying and stuff. So I look at it, and I ask her what the problem is, and she says her kids can’t control the car. But the thing is, its just the demo screen that’s been playing, its just running through the track and ‘insert coins’ is flashing on the screen. So I ask her if she’s put any quarters in it and she looks all confused and is like ‘I thought it was free,’ why would it be free lady?!” He’s laughing and Jean quirks a smile.

“I feel you man,” Jean laughs,“Customers always think they are entitled to free shit, for no reason! I hate dealing with the weirdos who come in.”

“But its like, I also love seeing all the weird people who pass through here," he waves his arms, motioning around the arcade, "I have seen so many interesting people in the eight years I’ve worked here.”

Jean squints and does some quick mental math, “So you’re twenty?”

The stranger grins, “Oh yeah, I guess you've been paying attention,” he laughs, “What about you?”

“Oh, I’m eighteen,” Jean grins sheepishly.

“Dang, you're two years younger than me and working at a bookstore, and I’m still clinging on to my middle school summer job.”

Jean laughs, he genuinely enjoys talking to this very hot stranger, “So, um, whats your name? Sorry, I didn't ask earlier.”

“Oh, right! The name’s Bodt, Marco Bodt,” he laughs at his own James Bond reference and Jean is wondering what he did right to have his actual true love appear before him.

“You off of school for winter break?”

“Yeah, I go to the U of Trost.”

“No way! So do I, what’s your major?” How did Jean miss beautiful Marco Bodt on campus?

Marco looks delighted, “That’s so cool! What a small world, we’ll have to hang out on campus some time!” Jean’s heart flutters, “I’m an English major.”

“That’s probably why we've never seen each other,” Jean says with a grin, “I’m biology, we’re in two different worlds,” Marco laughs.

“Yeah, that’s true- look! The tickets stopped!” He reaches over Jean and triumphantly holds up the end of the ticket strip.

Jean freezes with Marco still leaning over his lap and swallows, a nervous titter escapes his lips, “Oh, oh yeah. Uh, that’s a lot of tickets.” Jean groans internally and wants to smack himself, what a dumb thing to say! 

If Marco thinks Jean sounds like an idiot, he doesn’t say anything, he just scoops up the pile of tickets, “Yeah! Lets see how many points the thing gave you!” He’s hidden behind the mountain of tickets and shuffles blindly over to the counter, Jean trailing behind. Marco somehow vaults the counter and unceremoniously drops the pile of tickets, “How many do you think you got?”

Jean leans against the counter, “A million,” he replies and takes the liberty to check out Marco’s fine ass as he bends over to start feeding the tickets into the ticket counter.

“What are you going to get with a million tickets?”

Jean considers the question before saying, “A ton of those Chinese finger trap things, and I’ll just leave them everywhere so people will pick them up and get their fingers stuck. I will have the entire town on their knees with my Chinese finger traps.”

“I wouldn't mind being on my knees for you,” Marco says as nonchalantly as possible, still bent over and feeding tickets into the machine.

Jean chokes, “Wha-”

“Wow, you're already at 50,000 tickets!” Was he joking? Was it an offer for a blowjob? Is Jean just reading too much into this?

“Uh,” Jean tries to speak like a rational person, “What’s, uh, what’s the most expensive prize?”

Marco stands up and looks around, “Hmmm, oh! Its Bearemy.”

“Who?”

Marco laughs and points at a huge stuffed bear hanging for the ceiling above the counter, “Bearemy. He costs 200,000 tickets. He’s my favorite, It will be a sad day when he’s won.”

Jean stares at the bear a second longer, “Oh.”

“Looks like we’re almost done counting the tickets! You’re at 199,987! That’s gonna be a lot of Chinese finger traps.”

“Yeah...” Jean has an idea. 

“Welp, that’s the last of them,” Marco says as the machine swallows the last ticket and prints a receipt, “With a grand total of 200,164 tickets! Still want those finger traps?” 

“Actually, I think I’ll take Bearemy.”

Marco looks at Jean, betrayal written across his face, “O-oh. I mean, yeah sure. You have enough tickets.” He shuffles over to the bear and unhooks him from the ceiling, “Well, here you go,” Marco says before handing Bearemy over with a grief stricken expression.

“Thanks,” Jean smiles in spite of Marco’s pain, “And, um, I’d like to give you a gift.” He hands the bear back to Marco, “I didn’t really earn the tickets so-” Jean just shrugs awkwardly with a sheepish smile on his face.

Marco’s face lights up, “That’s so sweet! Thanks!” He earnestly takes the bear and is about to say more, but a woman walks up to the counter and says a machine won’t accept her quarters. Marco nods and says he’ll be right over to help. “I’d better go do that,” Marco groans as he exits the counter, he is definitely checking Jean out, “But, um, I’ll be right back soo...”

Jean watches him leave. Why is dumb, freckly Marco perfect in every way? Jean feels nervous all of a sudden. He has to leave, if he stays any longer, just talking to Marco, he will definitely screw things up. He grabs a pen from behind the counter and a scrap of paper, scribbles a quick sorry and writes down his number, before slipping out of the arcade and into the cold outdoors. 

Jean curses himself for being such a fucking wimp. The guy was clearly into him and Jean was totally okay with that, so why couldn’t he just hang around like a normal human and flirt with him? He’s such a loser.

Jean smacks his forehead, but keeps walking towards his car. Its dark out, only a handful of lights illuminates the parking lot and it's fucking freezing. As he's about to reach the car and climb in, he hears someone running behind.

"Hey!" Its Marco, Jean freezes, "Why'd you run off?"

"Oh, uh, well I didn't want to get in your way if you were busy so..."

Marco walks up to him, "I actually just got off, well sort of. I thought we could maybe get coffee or something and talk outside the arcade setting. But I understand if you need to be somewhere." 

Jean stares at Marco, "You want to hangout with me?"

"Well, I mean, a cute guy gave me a stuffed bear and then mysteriously vanished. I was slightly interested in following him for more than one reason," Marco says with an easy smile and a chuckle.

“You think I’m cute?”

“Yeah, is that okay?”

Jean nods, awestruck.

Marco laughs, “Why do you look so amazed?”

“Well, I mean, you’re really hot and I’m just super awkward so I’m wondering what I did to trick you into thinking I’m attractive," Marco has gotten significantly closer to Jean.

He shrugs and says, "I think you're interesting.”

“Seriously?” Jean can’t imagine why anyone would like any quality about him, he is actual garbage.

Marco is close enough that Jean can smell his cologne and notice every god damned freckle on his perfect face. He looks at Jean’s face and a smile plays across his lips, he glances down at Jean’s mouth and stares back into amber eyes. He bites his lip and tentatively reaches out and hooks his fingers through Jean’s belt loops. Jean’s heart is pounding. He wants this, he wants more than this 

Marco pulls Jean even closer and whispers, "We should just kiss so you know it’s for real," Marco is inches away from Jean’s face, his breath ghosts across Jean’s lips.  


Jean feels light and giddy, he tilts his head up and his nose awkwardly bumps Marco’s, Marco lets out a breathy laugh and leans down to Jean, aligning their lips. Their lips tenderly meet and Jean gasps softly. Marco’s lips are soft and oh-so welcoming. They part and Jean slips his tongue in, tracing Marco’s teeth and tangling with his tongue. He feels dizzy, Marco pulls him close and deepens the kiss. Marco’s firm hands are on Jean’s waist and lower back, Jean reaches up to tangle his hand in Marco’s hair. Their bodies are pressed together, Jean can feel Marco’s heartbeat, and his own heart is racing. It’s a lazy kiss, not quick and desperate like Jean is used to. It’s tender, and that kind of makes Jean’s stomach squirm.

They finally part with a soft gasp and Marco is grinning like crazy and Jean feels flushed and is sporting a half chub that he prays Marco can’t see.

“That was nice,” Marco murmurs, still holding Jean close to him.

Jean breathes and looks into Marco’s dark eyes, “Yeah,” he mumbles in a dreamy haze, still lost in all of Marco.

Marco chews his lip and purrs, “We should kiss again.” 

Jean grins lecherously, feeling brave suddenly, and grabs Marco's ass and tries to sound as seductive as possible when he says, "We can do a lot more than kiss if you want."

“Where did this confidence comes from?” Marco asks with a laugh as his fingers trace Jean’s jaw bone, “A second ago you were running away, and now you're suggesting we commit illegal sexual acts in a parking lot.”

“Well we don’t have to do everything in the parking lot. My car can move,” Jean’s lips brush Marco’s again. 

Before they can complete the kiss, Marco pulls back with such sudden force it startles Jean, and he is afraid he did something wrong, before Marco shouts, “Shoot! I never even got your name!”

Jean blinks and runs a hand through his hair, “Shit man, you scared me. My name’s Jean, Jean Kirstein.”

“Ooh fancy, French?”

“Y-yeah, it is actually,” Jean blushes, this boy will be the actual death of him. 

Marco moves closer again and wraps his arms around Jean's waist, “Well Mr. Kirstein, I have a proposition to make. What say you to coming back to my humble abode and doing the dirty? Or I could just make dinner or something, if you’d rather just hang out.”

Jean blushes a dark red, this fucking nerd, and somehow chokes out, “Wow, you just jump right into things, don’t you?” Jean manages a laugh and hooks his fingers into Marco’s belt loops, “And I thought I had no tact!”

“Hey!” Marco pretends to look hurt and puts on a fake pout, “You were the one who grabbed my ass! And I don’t offer to sleep with every cute guy I meet at my workplace!”

“And I did win a bear for you, soo...”

“Exactly!”

Jean laughs, he feels really at ease with Marco even though they just met. This doesn’t feel like some random hookup, which both terrifies and exhilarates Jean. It scares him that Marco might not feel the same. But, Jean decides to take his chances and asks, “Where do you live?”

Marco points to the rows of little, candy-colored beach houses that are piled up next to the boardwalk, “Over there!”

“You live in a beach house? Don’t only tourists live there in the summer?” Is Marco Bodt even a real person? 

“Hmmm, yup, normally. But me and a three other guys live there all year. Its great for parties when we’re home from school, plus in the summer we are right on the beach,” he grins and leans down to Jean’s ear to huskily whisper, “But don’t worry, no one's home right now so you can be as loud as you want.” 

Jean wills his dick to stay down and stutters, “S-so do you you wanna walk or drive?”

“We can walk, its like two seconds away.”

“But it’s cold,” Jean grumbles under his breath.

Marco grabs his hand and pulls, “You were the one who suggested walking. Don’t complain!”

Jean just laughs and is willingly led away by Marco. They make their way out of the parking lot and onto a sandy road that’s lined with little summer houses. There’s no lights on because nobody lives in the houses during the winter, but Marco walks like he’s memorized the journey. As they’re walking Jean has the sense to shoot his parents a text and tell them he’ll be out tonight. They finally stop in front of a house. Its a little, two story structure with light green siding and gray shingles. It’s the only house on the road with a porch light on, and Marco reaches into his pocket to pull out a key.

“Welcome to my castle!” Marco boasts, motioning wildly to the house before unlocking the door. He walks in and Jean trails after.

Jean looks around the darkened house and reaches out to tug Marco’s jacket, “You sure no one’s home?”

Marco turns to face him and nods, “Yeah, they all have jobs.” Jean nods and Marco reaches out to hold his hips, drawing circles on Jean’s hipbones with his thumbs. He leans in and asks in the same husky voice as earlier, “So, wanna let me fuck you?”

“God yes!” Jean eagerly consents before surging forward and crashing his lips against Marco’s. 

This kiss has a desperation that wasn’t present in the first one they shared. Teeth clumsily scrape together and nip at swollen lips. Jean feels off center and drunk on Marco. He whimpers as Marco pulls him in closer, parting his lips and allowing Marco’s tongue to run along his teeth and tangle with his own.

Lips still locked together, Marco yanks Jean through the house until they reach a couch, which they topple onto. Marco is sitting with his legs spread and Jean’s on his lap. Jean’s arms wrap around Marco’s neck, pulling him deeper into their kiss. Jean pulls back to rip his shirt over his head before yanking Marco’s off and throwing it over to the side somewhere, and finally crashing his lips back down. The only sound in the room is the smacking of their lips and gasps for air, sometimes interrupted by a soft moan. 

Marco pushes Jean back for a second, his lips swollen and wet from kissing, and says, “We should probably go to my room, in case someone walks in.”

“Oka- wow!” Jean grabs Marco’s shoulders as the brunette stands up and picks him up like a princess, “Dude! This is so fucking cute!”

Marco laughs and takes Jean upstairs, trying to take the steps two at a time and nearly tipping over twice, earning a string of curses from Jean who clings desperately to his neck. They reach the top of the stairs without dying and Marco opens his door and trips into his room, somehow still holding Jean. 

Jean gasps when Marco drops him on the bed and a moan escapes his lips when the brunette crawls onto the bed after him, sexy as hell. Marco moves up and kisses Jean again, before moving down and sucking at the crook of his collarbone. Jean tosses his head back and lets out a soft, breathy noise. Marco’s moving down again, trailing sloppy kisses against Jean’s chest and stomach and Jean has one hand tangled in Marco’s hair, the other is reaching down to struggle with the button and zipper of his pants. He’s gasping and stifling back moans just from Marco’s lips on his skin and his dick is already painfully hard and begging to be released from its cloth confines. Marco, thankfully, picks up on his need and graciously reaches down to undo his pants and pull them off. Jean now has nothing on besides his tented boxers and Marco is hovering precariously close to the waistband of said boxers. Jean’s hand toys with the elastic band, eager for Marco to do something, anything.

Marco looks up, his eyes meeting Jean’s, and he bites his lip in the most sexy way possible before asking, “Still wanna fuck?”

“Please,” Jean whimpers. 

Marco grins and sits up, leaning over to a side table and scrounging around for condoms and lube. Jean takes the opportunity to wiggle out of his boxers, his dick spring out once it’s released, and he reaches over to try and get Marco out of his pants. Marco finds what he needs and allows Jean to take off his pants. Once Jean has fully pulled off Marco’s pants, he takes a moment to admire Marco’s thick cock and licks his lips. Jean moves onto his knees over Marco’s lap, straddling his hips, and Marco rakes his eyes over Jean’s naked body, taking in every god damned detail. Both of their dicks are painfully hard and Jean holds them together with his long fingers and slowly strokes them.  


Marco pops the cap on the lube and spreads a generous amount onto his fingers, groaning from the sensation of Jean's touch. He looks up at a flushed Jean, “Ready?”  


Jean just nods and whimpers again in response. Marco grasps his chin with his free hand and tilts it down into a kiss. Their lips come together in a breathless kiss and Marco presses a finger to Jean’s entrance and Jean pulls away, arching his back and opening his mouth in a silent moan. 

“God you're hot,” Marco breathes into Jean’s shoulder as he slowly massages the single digit into Jean’s tight heat.

“If I’m hot, you must be a god,” Jean mumbles and wraps his arms around Marco’s shoulders, rocking onto the finger and moaning.

They kiss again and Marco tests Jean’s entrance with a second finger, before sliding it in with the first. Jean gasps and leans his forehead onto Marco’s shoulder, he’s rocking back harder now. Jean's moans grow more insistent as Marco scissors the two fingers back and forth. He is so hard and doesn’t think he’s ever been this turned on before. Just having two fingers inside of him is making him come undone, unable to think straight and feeling nothing except Marco’s fingers, Marco’s hot skin, Marco’s breath, Marco’s heartbeat.  


Marco curls his fingers minutely and finally hits Jean’s prostate. Jean throws his head back and cries out, “Shit Marco, feels so good!” He’s flushed and the world around him feels hazy, he needs Marco’s cock inside of him. “Marco,” he moans as Marco adds a third finger, “hurry up, lets do it already.”

Marco kisses up Jean’s neck and scissors his fingers, stretching and spreading Jean before murmuring into his shoulder, “No rush, I don’t wanna hurt you.”

“But- fuuuck,” Jean moans and rocks more insistently onto Marco’s fingers, he needs more inside of him, “I want you now, I’m ready!”

Marco mumbles, “Ok, ok,” and retracts his fingers after giving Jean’s sweet spot a few final strokes and fumbles around for the box of condoms that’s somewhere off the side of the bed, Jean’s still on his lap urging him to hurry up. 

Marco grabs the condoms and rips a package open, rolling the latex down his dick and coating it with lube as Jean watches with hazy amber eyes. He runs a hand down Jean’s bare chest and breathes out, “Shit, you are so hot,” his hands trail down Jean’s sides and settle on his hips.

Jean chews his lip and purrs, “Yeah? Wanna watch me fuck myself on you?” He seductively raises a finger to his lips, playing with it in his mouth before popping it out and tracing it down Marco’s chest, not breaking eye contact once.

“Fuck yes,” Marco replies breathlessly as he leans in to kiss Jean again, their lips breaking apart as Jean moves to position himself over Marco’s cock.

Jean runs his tongue over his lips and lets out a shuddering breath as he guides Marco’s length against himself. He finally begins to slowly sink down, gasping and closing his eyes as Marco’s thick cock begins to fill him. It feels incredible, being filled to the brim by Marco's dick. His mind is blanked, white noise fills his ears and he only knows Marco, feeling Marco inside of him, Marco stretching and ripping him apart with his cock. He sinks down to the base, completely filled with gorgeous Marco, and squirms a bit as he adjusts. 

“Shit Jean,” Marco whines, his eyes darting over Jean’s body, trying to take in every perfect detail, “I’m gonna cum just looking at you.”

“Don’t, that would be really disappointing,” Jean murmurs with a breathy laugh and finally opens his eyes. 

Jean runs his hands down Marco’s chest and begins to slowly grind on his dick, getting used to the intense feeling of being completely filled and moaning softly at how amazing it feels. 

Marco’s gasping beneath his slow movements, gazing up at Jean with hazy eyes, awe written all over his face. Jean notices Marco’s worshippy stare and blushes, “Why are looking at me like that,” he mumbles.

Marco laughs an apology, “Sorry, just, I think you might actually be perfect,” he rubs gentle circles into Jean’s hips and groans, “you just look s’good taking my cock like that.”

Jean blushes even harder and looks away, biting back a smile. He looks back at Marco, staring right into his eyes and tries to sound seductive when he purrs, "I'll look even better when I'm moving." He rocks his hips tauntingly and Marco moans and arches up to him.

"Don't tease," Marco whimpers, trying to grind up into Jean, hands moving from his hips and needily clawing at Jean’s sides.

Jean grins and braces himself against Marco’s thighs, then he arches back and begins to move up Marco’s dick. He hears Marco moan and his hands tighten on Jean’s sides, pulling him back down. Jean gasps as he’s yanked back down and moans as he pulls himself up before slamming back down. He’s bouncing on Marco’s lap moaning freely and enjoying the groans and whimpers that are escaping Marco’s lips.

Marco’s cock feels amazing inside him, it’s stretching and filling him up so much better than fingers, and he sees stars every time he slams back down, trying to drive Marco further and further into his tight ass. 

Marco is clenching Jean’s sides hard enough to bruise, nails digging into soft flesh. He watches Jean through a fog of ecstasy, “Shit,” he moans, “Jean you look so fucking hot with me inside of you.”

Jean tries to reply but instead just lets out a long moan. He pants on top of Marco, bouncing and moaning, clenching around him. His skin is covered in a sheen of sweat, he’s flushed down to his chest, and he’s being super loud. But, he feels like he’s floating on a cloud and he wants more of Marco so bad. 

Marco seems to notice his need for more because he yanks Jean up and flips him onto the bed. Jean whines in confusion, but then practically screams as Marco slams back into him.

Now on top, Marco sets an unforgiving rhythm that leaves Jean writhing beneath him for more. Their hips snap together and Jean claws at Marco’s back, hard enough to break skin, and he’s moaning and gasping, begging for more.

Jean’s arches nearly completely off the bed, his legs wrapping around Marco’s waist to draw him in deeper. His hard cock bounces between them, smearing precome on their chests.

Marco’s groaning and pounding into Jean and he cries out, “Fuck Jean, you're so fucking hot!”

Jean can’t find it in himself to reply, unable to create coherent thoughts with Marco slamming into him, blinding him with pleasure.

Marco enters at a different angle and Jean sees white, “Fuck!” He howls, “Fuck me right there Marco, Shit!”

Marco grins and continues to slam into Jean’s sweet spot. Jean is coming completely undone beneath him. His head is thrown back, revealing a flushed neck and his hands are clenched into fists in the sheets. Moans and gasps of pleasure pour from his lips. Every movement Marco makes leaves him writhing in pleasure, he’s melting underneath Marco.  


Marco is grasping his hips so tight he is sure he will have bruises when they’re done, but his own nails did a number on Marco’s shoulders and back. Marco seems to be as close to losing it as Jean because his strokes have suddenly become less even and have taken on a new desperateness. Every time he buries himself into Jean’s ass he groans and tries to push himself further into Jean.

There’s a tight spring coiling in Jean’s stomach and he is reduced to a whimpering mess begging for it harder, needing more to reach his climax.

He moans, “Fuck, Marco harder,” with such need it almost sounds like he’s crying. Marco’s name pours from his lips like a desperate prayer. He’s so close to cumming it hurts, and he cries out louder as Marco hips pound into his own. He finally he cums between them, screaming at how fucking hard his orgasm hits him. 

He spills between the both of them and clenches hard around Marco. Marco’s panting and gasping, needily thrusting into Jean and crying out, “Jean, fuck, fuck, Jean!” Before finally reaching his climax and cumming. 

He shakily rides out the last waves of his orgasm before collapsing onto Jean. They’re both gasping for air and trying to come back down to earth.  


Marco finally pulls out and ties off his condom, tossing it out before crawling back into bed.

Jean wraps his arms around Marco and yanks him closer, “Shit,” he gasps into Marco’s shoulders, “That was fucking magnificent.”

Marco wiggles around so he’s facing Jean and leans in for a kiss in reply. He nuzzles closer to Jean, “You staying the night?”

Jean nods.

Downstairs, they hear the door open and the sound of people walking in travels up the stairs. A voice cries, “Marco, are you home? We brought beer and friends!”

Jean sits up when Marco doesn’t answer the voice downstairs, “Shouldn’t you answer them?”

Marco trys to pull Jean back down, “Noo,” he mumbles, “focus on cuddling, not my roommates.”

Jean laughs and Marco pulls him down into a kiss, they’re too busy kissing to hear the footsteps coming up the stairs, and the doorknob turning.

“Marc- Wow, naked men!” Marco jolts at the voice, banging his forehead against Jeans.

Jean rolls off Marco and yanks a sheet up to his chest, looking mortified. Light spills over them from the open doorway and Jean buries his face in his hands, super embarrassed. 

“Shit! Connie, fuck off!” Marco shouts at a guy with a buzz cut standing in the doorway.

The Connie guy has a shit-eating grin plastered to his face, he nods at Jean and laughs, “Nice,” he says before spinning around and running down the stairs, shouting, “Marco got laid!!” A chorus of hoots and cheers answer his cry.

Marco smacks his forehead, “Ah, sorry. Probably should have locked the door.”

Jean is blushing something fierce but mumbles into his hands, “At least we weren’t actually fucking.”

Marco laughs and lifts Jean’s face out of his hands, “Hey,” he says, “Let’s get outta here and go grab some coffee or something.”

“Little late to buy me a drink,” Jean says cynically, but he’s smiling and allows Marco to pull him out of bed.

They find their pants but have to traipse down the stairs to recover their shirts, where they encounter Marco's three room mates, Reiner, Bert, and Connie, and some of Marco's other friends who came over for a beer. They are made fun of gratuitously, but everyone's friendly and Connie tell Jean to stop in again sometime, preferably clothed next time. Jean blushes like a virgin, but he enjoys the idea of frequenting Marco’s place of residence, and promises that he’ll be back.

 

They’re walking back to Jean’s car and he suddenly stops, “Hey,” he begins, “what happened to Bearemy?”

Marco turns to look at him and grins, “I put him in the break room before I ran after you.”

“Oh. Yeah, I guess it was lucky that you got off work right as I was chickening out.” Jean shoves his hands in his pockets and starts walking again.

“Well...” Marco smirks, “Technically I didn’t finish my shift.”

Jean cocks his head, “Whaddya mean?”

“I may have called in some favors and got somebody to come in on the threat of bodily harm because a very cute boy was trying to run away from me.”

Jean blushes, “Stop calling me cute.”

“But you are!”

He ducks his head and walks faster, away from Marco, “I’m a grown man, I’m not cute!”

Marco trips after him, “You’re younger than me and super cute!”

Jean starts to run, laughing, “I’m not fucking cute!”

Marco chases after him, “That was so cute!”

“Not cute!” Jean shouts back at him.

They race back to Jean’s car, all the while arguing about how cute Jean really is and end up skipping coffee all together and just make out in the backseat like a couple of horny high schoolers.


End file.
